Feral_Despair

by Nora Ash

  The guards had guns, but the ferals were ferocious—and outnumbered them twenty to one.

  351 kept close to the wall, ensuring Lillian stayed between it and his back as he edged around the fighting to the door the guards had entered through. He swiped the card against it just as the last guard was ripped in two, and quickly stepped aside as the horde of alphas tore through it.

  Once again, he waited until they were all through, shattering glass and victorious roars indicating that the path outside was clear.

  He led Lillian through the destruction of what had been the reception area, heart pounding as the first tendrils of cool night air hit his nostrils. It’d been so long since he’d felt a breeze against his skin that the sensation was startling.

  “Come,” his mate urged from behind him, and only then did he realize he’d stopped at the threshold. “We’re not free yet.”

  He stepped through, lifting her over the broken glass and into the fresh air.

  That was when the sound of automatic gunfire filled the night.

  351 snarled and ripped Lillian behind him again, following the sound to its source.

  Guards swarmed from the outer rim of the compound, bathed in floodlights, many more than had been inside. Soldiers.

  The ferals attacked them as viciously as they had the guards, but the automatic weapons tore into the alphas’ unprotected flesh and sent many to the ground in a spray of blood.

  Thinking fast, 351 fell back against the building and pulled Lillian into the shadows. As fast as he could move her while remaining low to the ground, they half-crawled toward the tall fence looming against the night sky.

  Miraculously, they made it through the spray of bullets without being hit. 351 didn’t waste time leaping up the fence, digging his toes into the mesh to push himself up to the barbed wire topping it. Finding the strength he needed in the pulsing fear from the bond anchored behind his ribs, he tore the barbed wire apart with his hands, gritting his teeth against the pain as the metal ripped into his flesh.

  Again and again he tore at it, until there was enough of a clear path that they could make it through. Only then did he jump down, grabbing for his mate.

  “Your hands!” she gasped, horrified at the bloody mess.

  “No time,” he ground out, though he could see tendons sticking out of the wounds. But they couldn’t linger. Every second that passed was a chance for one of the soldiers to spot them. And if that happened…

  He had to more or less push her up the fence, grinding his teeth against the pain in his hands. But together, they managed to get her over the fence, and relief that jolted through him when she landed on the other side went a long way to numb the agony.

  She was out.

  She was free.

  But as she stared back at him, her face contorted from a relieved, though anxious smile to a mask of terror.

  “Zach! Look out!”

  He didn’t turn around in time. Pain blazed through his back, throwing him up against the fence with a loud rattle.

  A bullet. He’d been shot before—there was no mistaking that pain. Grunting with effort, he turned to face his attacker.

  A soldier with an automatic rifle aimed—not at him, but at Lillian.

  “Get on the ground!” the soldier snarled. “Get down, or I’ll shoot!”

  351 turned his head to look one last time at the female he’d known was his mate from the first time he saw her. The woman who he would give his life for. Perhaps she truly had fallen pregnant during one of the times he’d taken her in that blasted compound.

  Maybe there’d still be a part of him left in this world after tonight. It was a comforting thought.

  “Run, Lillian,” he whispered.

  And then, drawing on the strength of the bond pulsing frantically in his chest, he threw himself at the soldier, snarling like the beast he’d been since she first met him.

  The second shot hit him in the stomach, the pain blackening the edges of his vision. But it came too late. He landed on the soldier with his full weight, taking him to the ground with a battle roar.

  The guard gurgled as 351 snapped his teeth shut around his throat and tore, metallic blood filling his mouth before his opponent could dislodge him. The guard stilled with a final, wet rattle.

  351’s vision tunneled, closing in, a faint rushing in his ears growing to a thunderous crash. The last thing he saw was his own blood pooling around him as he surrendered to death.

  Feral: Torment

  Want the next book in the Feral Series?

  TORMENT

  He sacrificed everything for me.

  The beast who took me against my will and tied my soul to his so tightly I can no longer breathe without him.

  He sacrificed his freedom. His life.

  For me.

  They say love will make you do anything, give anything.

  But what’s between him and me - it isn’t love. It’s a bond.

  And my destruction.

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  More Omegaverse

  Addicted to brutal alphas who take what they want - when they want?

  Read Nora’s first Omegaverse serial, Alpha.

  But be warned - it’s scorching.

  I never thought being saved from pain, degradation and death could come at such a twisted price.

  He is nightmares made flesh, the living embodiment of everything I fear. Yet in my darkest hour, he is the one who comes for me.

  If he demands my submission in return, how can I deny him?

  Taken is the first book in Nora Ash’s dirty, suspense-filled Omegaverse serial. Want your alphas dominating and your romance scorching? This is the story for you.

  ALPHA: TAKEN

  TEASER

  It usually takes a lot to shake me while I’m on the clock, but these political gatherings are tough to get through for most single women. I am no exception.

  I grit my teeth and pretend like my system isn’t being bombarded with alpha pheromones. As I glance to the side I can tell I’m not the only one in the throng of reporters who is on edge from all the airborn aggression—a couple of the other female journalists are fidgeting, and a burly man holding a video camera on his shoulders is flexing his free hand. Probably an alpha himself, judging by the size of him. But he’s been through this before, as have we all, and we’re all pretending like we’re not noticing the testosterone rolling off the mayoral candidates in thick waves.

  I clench my pen tighter and squirm in my chair from discomfort at the latent aggression as I take in the five candidates. Every single one is so obviously alpha, which I think is just another sound reason to avoid any and all politicians. When your job is not to cover them for the most volatile election in recent memory, of course.

  “I’d like to offer you all my warmest welcome to this our third debate.” The current Lord Mayor smiles from his podium up front, in what I’m sure his PR team meant to be a jovial manner. Lord Mayor Bremen is a man is his sixties, with dark gray hair and sharp eyes, and he has ruled Mattenburg with an iron fist for eight years. If there is one thing he’s not, it’s jovial.

  “With only two weeks to election day, we have a busy schedule ahead of us, so let us get started with the evening’s topic of CO2 emissions and recreational planning.”

  I start to write notes on my trusty notepad, not bothering to look up while Bremen continues his introduction to the third subject the candidates have to discuss in a public forum before the elections.

  “To get us started, I am certain Mister Peter Leod will enlighten us on the Liberals’ viewpoints.”

  I look up, my pen pausing in time to see the Lord Mayor step backward and allow for one of the other candidates to take the floor. It is well known that he and Leod have been butting heads since before the election campaigns started, and as far as I know, Bremen has never allowed him to open a debate.

  If Leod is as surprised by the ge
sture as I am—as the rest of the room appears to be—then he doesn’t show it. He is a very tall man, who hides his alpha physique as best he can underneath an immaculately pressed, white shirt and a blue suit. No doubt in order to appeal to the liberal citizens his party represents—the ones who don’t care for archaic roles and biologically dictated power structures. I probably would have voted for him myself, if it wasn’t because I’ve been exposed to the lies and corruption within our city council for a few years now, thanks to my job. There are no Santa Claus, no Tooth Fairy and definitely no trustworthy politician in this city.

  “Thank you, Lord Mayor.” Leod lets his eyes sweep over the cameras and gathered reporters, the air of confidence that has made him rise from a relative nobody to a serious contender within the span of two years vibrating from him like a near-tangible entity.

  I frown and stare at his defined features in the hopes of seeing even a glimmer of surprise or annoyance, but there is nothing but cool, calm self-assuredness. Maybe I’m just grasping at air, hoping to see something—anything—that will make a three-hour debate on CO2 even slightly interesting.

  I’ve barely had the thought when his sweeping gaze catches mine.

  A jolt shoots through my body, almost like someone’s sent an electric current through me. I blink, startled, and immediately proceed to drop my pen. I hurriedly close my knees and catch it in my skirt before it can clatter to the floor.

  What the hell was that?

  I clutch my pen tighter as I suppress the odd tingling sensation in my tailbone left behind by whatever the hell that electric jolt was.

  But when I look back up, he is still looking right at me, his cool, gray eyes seemingly boring into mine.

  I am vaguely aware that my mouth hangs open and that tendrils of sensation are running down my arms until my fingertips buzz, but mainly, I’m just quietly freaking out. Why the hell is he staring at me? He looks… angry. His nostrils flare and a small frown makes its appearance on his forehead.

  This makes no sense. I am certain he doesn’t know me personally, and I’ve never written anything remotely exciting enough for a man like Leod to take notice.

  It seems to dawn on him that he was meant to be talking right now, because he jerks his gaze away, smoothing the small frown as he resumes his speech.

  I breathe a shaky sigh of relief at the loss of his attention, but I can’t stop my hands from trembling. I don’t understand what just happened—I don’t understand why he was staring at me, and I certainly don’t understand why my body is… is doing whatever the hell it is it’s doing. The buzzing in my tailbone seems to intensify for every shuddered breath.

  My bewildered thoughts come to an abrupt halt when my abdomen suddenly contracts in cramps. I manage to bite down on my yelp of surprise and pain, stifling it to a grunt.

  The woman next to me gives me a puzzled look, but no one else seems to have noticed.

  Sweat starts to trickle down my forehead, and my hands now shake worse than ever. Oh God, what is this? I frantically go through everything I’ve eaten all day to gage if it’s a really poorly timed food poisoning, but I’m interrupted by another cramp low in my belly. I bite my tongue hard to avoid crying out, clutching my pen and now crumbled-up notepad as hard as I can until it’s over.

  I have to get out of here, before I barf on someone. Once it’s finally over I scramble to my feet, doing my best not to make so much noise I draw any attention, and I manage to get to the passage that runs between the seated reporters before I have the next attack.

  Only this time, it feels different. Instead of pain, an intense heat blooms in my abdomen. It’s so strong I have to lean over and brace my hands against my knees while I gasp. And then, it’s like something snaps. Inside of me.

  I cry out as fluids rush from deep in my very core, and for a moment I think I am hemorrhaging. But the liquid that floods my panties and soaks through my skirt to make a puddle on the floor beneath me isn’t red. It’s clear.

  I stare at it in uncomprehending shock for two full seconds, gasping for breath. What the hell?

  A deep growl makes me look up, confused and embarrassed beyond belief. Everyone’s staring at me, and apart from the unwavering growl, you can hear a pin drop.

  I catch Leod’s eyes as I desperately try to get a grasp on the situation, and freeze to the spot. His eyes are no longer cool gray but deep black, and his nostrils are flared. But he’s not the one growling. Movement from closer by catches my attention in time to see the big alpha cameraman toss his equipment to the ground so it breaks into a thousand pieces.

  I gape at him, briefly wondering what on earth he’s doing, until I catch sight of his face. His nostrils are as flared as Leod’s, and his eyes pure black. And he’s coming for me.

  The second he lunges, all hell breaks loose.

  KEEP READING

  Also by Nora Ash

  FERAL SERIES

  Obsession

  Despair

  Torment*

  ALPHA SERIES

  Taken

  Masquerade

  Mated

  ANCIENT BLOOD SERIES

  Origin

  Wicked Soul

  Debt of Bones*

  DARKNESS SERIES

  Into the Darkness

  Hidden in Darkness

  Shades of Darkness

  Fires in the Darkness

  DEMON’S MARK SERIES

  Branded

  Demon’s Mark

  MADE & BROKEN SERIES

  Dangerous

  Monster

  Trouble